Fiona
by personalandprofessional
Summary: Before Martha he had half the female population of London in his bed. But before that? Clive Reader wasn't always a player.
1. Prologue

**Fiona**

 **Summary: Before Martha he had half the female population of London in his bed. But before that? Clive Reader wasn't always a player.**

 **Disclaimer: We're working on it!**

* * *

A.N

So Alice sent Anna a (quite lengthy) snippet of a random idea and Anna ran with it (putting it mildly). Then Alice wrote some more and Anna took liberties with it again. And suddenly it was 16,000 words and counting and had a life of its own. Our canons have got so diverse and complex these days and this one is a little bit different but we hope you enjoy!

We know it's a bit teasing to just post the prologue but Anna really wanted to post something on her birthday! And we promise there is lots more to come.

(Also, before we get messages about it - we've imaged they have a different office when they are younger!)

* * *

Sometimes Martha wondered if it was always going to come back to the woman Clive had loved before he loved her.

Clive said it wasn't like that. Clive said he'd fallen in love with her at twenty-three when they were drunk and pupils, it had just taken him more than a decade to figure it out.

But sometimes, on those nights when she had to extract him from what could easily escalate into something inappropriate with another girl half his age, when she dragged him home from the pub when she wasn't even sure either of them wanted her to, she didn't quite believe it.

It was a plea for attention, she knew that. The stupid man-child needed reassurance, needed her to hold him tighter and not go anywhere even as he pushed her away. It didn't make it any easier though.

She'd never expected to be the mature one in a relationship, the secure one, the one not spinning out of orbit in a crisis of confidence every couple of months. But somehow Clive's moments of panic had the opposite effect on her. Much as each ill-thought drinks invitation and overheard flirtation frustrated her, hurt her more often that not, it didn't change anything. It didn't make her question their relationship, if anything it made her more confident, more in control. If Clive wanted out he knew how to get that. It wasn't about that. It wasn't about her or them. It was about Fiona.


	2. Chapter 1

**Fiona**

 **Summary: Before Martha he had half the female population of London in his bed. But before that? Clive Reader wasn't always a player.**

 **Disclaimer: We're working on it!**

* * *

A.N

Okay so that was very, very mean to only post the prologue and we don't blame you for refusing to review. We'd love reviews now we're really getting into the story though. We're at nearly 22k already and we'll really try to update every week so you get some C&M goodness all through December and January! Deal?!

* * *

'You're remarkably chipper for a man who by all accounts just lost,' Martha observed as Clive came into their shared office, light-footed and whistling.

'I did. But I lost to the Iron Lady so I don't feel particularly bad about it. If I'm going to lose it may as well be to the most fearsome female silk at the Bar!'

'That still doesn't explain the whistling,' she said snarkily. She'd lost her own trial that morning and was still smarting from the defeat. It would take another few hours and a good proportion of a bottle of wine before she could put it aside, something Clive apparently had no difficulty with.

'Can a man not whistle for his own amusement?'

'Not when he just lost, it makes you sound callous.'

'I don't think anyone's listening.'

'I'm listening,' she snapped, viciously underlining something that was probably irrelevant. 'And it's bloody distracting.'

Clive sauntered over to her desk and perched on the corner. 'What have you got to be distracted from? I heard you lost today too.'

Martha gave him a sour look and moved a pile of folders simply so she could slam them down a little too close to where Clive's arse was infringing on her personal space.

'Woah, woah!' he said, reaching out to grab her wrist before his grip softened and slid down to her hand, giving it a squeeze. 'It was just a joke. An ill-thought out and ill-timed one I know. Are you okay?'

Martha looked at their joined hands for a moment before twisting hers, palm up and squeezing back before pulling away.

'Yeah. Sorry.'

Clive shrugged. 'It'll take more than that to scare me. You forget who I've been in court with all week.'

She cracked a smile at that. 'Still. Didn't mean to take it out on you. Want to get out of here? I'll buy you a drink to make up for my vicious temper!'

Clive's face twisted awkwardly. 'Sorry Marth, can't tonight.'

'Does this have anything to do with the whistling?' she asked, carefully disguising her disappointment; she could have done with both the drink and the company this evening.

He laughed, slightly sheepishly she was surprised to see. 'Yeah it might well do. The whistling was in aid of the Iron Lady's remarkably attractive junior who may or may not have agreed to go on a date with me tonight.'

Clive launched himself off her desk with a grin, all hints of sheepishness gone.

'Bit last minute isn't it?' Martha couldn't help but tease. 'Looks like you had nothing better to do on a Friday night.'

'I told her I'd cancel my plans if she cancelled hers. Just for her, just this once. Complete lie but it worked like a charm!'

'You devious little bastard!'

'You didn't see her Marth!' Clive shot back, arms outstretched to emphasise his point as he walked, backwards, towards his desk. 'I had no choice. All long blonde hair and long, _long_ legs…'

'How did you see her legs if she was wearing robes?'

'I caught up with her afterwards,' he said, leaning against his own desk now. 'She's very…lithe, definitely a dancer.'

'Anything attract you other than her physical attributes Clive?' Marth asked acerbically.

'Give me some credit Marth, I'm not a complete pig.'

'Never said you were but still waiting…'

'Well she's smart, obviously, she got tenancy at the Iron Lady's set the same year we did.'

'Okay.' Martha's response was noncommittal.

'What?'

'Well she was still being led. You weren't.'

'Probably a mistake; I did lose after all.'

'Sometimes, very rarely, you don't give yourself enough credit,' Martha said, looking at him appraisingly. 'Anyway,' she continued, considering but resisting the temptation to use air quotations, 'Go on about the _remarkably attractive junior_.'

She wasn't one for gossip generally and hearing details of Clive's latest crush really didn't feature high on her list of enjoyable ways to spend time but she was bored and grumpy and in need of a distraction for as long as Clive would provide one.

'She accused me of fishing for sympathy sex!'

'Good on her. Were you?'

'Only a little. That's why it had to be tonight; before the memory of my savage assault at the hands of her former pupil mistress fades.'

'I don't see how or why your humiliation makes you an attractive prospect.'

'Not to you maybe, but it's called empathy, Marth.'

'Oy!'

'Just kidding. But anyway, she's sympathetic, I can use it to my advantage.'

'But she's already clocked you on that score. Trust me, you're not getting laid tonight.'

'Oh ye of little faith. The fact she even brought it up means she's thinking about it.'

Martha shook her head. 'You're ridiculous.'

'Ridiculously good looking?'

'Something like that,' she said sarcastically, giving up on her half-hearted attempts at prepping for next week's hearing and flipping the folder closed. 'I'm off to the pub. I'm in need of alternative company with whom to drown my sorrows since _somebody_ is abandoning me in the pursuit of baser pleasures!'

'I'm not sure drinking counts as less of a baser pleasure you know Marth!'

'Whatever! You know what I mean.'

'What can I say? Sometimes a man has to turn down an evening in the company of a beautiful, intelligent woman for an evening in the company of a beautiful, intelligent woman who might just have sex with him.'

Martha laughed. 'Flatterer. Have fun with…what's her name? You haven't said.'

'Fiona. Fiona Swinford.'

'Fiona,' Martha repeated. 'Don't think we've crossed paths. Well, good luck with the fair Fiona!'

Clive grinned. 'Thanks!'

* * *

She wouldn't usually ask. She was a gossip and much as she got on with the boys in the male dominated professions of barrister and clerk, she was by no means laddish. Yet something in Clive's behaviour had piqued her interest, something pushed her to ask, to tease him in the way he teased her when she had a date and he knew about it, rare though the combination was.

'So did you then?' she asked once the office had cleared of the morning rush; of clerks with deliveries and other juniors running late for court, once it was just them, working in companionable silence.

'What?' Clive responded, looking across at her but not, she noted, up from his notes. He'd clearly been daydreaming.

'Get laid on Friday night.'

Clive gave a strange sort of laugh and she could see that sheepish look again. 'No, actually.'

'Ha, I told you!'

'It wasn't that.'

'Really? What was it then? Having difficulties Clive?!'

'Decided not to,' he said simply.

Martha was taken aback. Clive wasn't one to turn down sex and his charm usually gave him the option. He'd seemed very into this Miss Swinford on Friday afternoon. 'Well, that's very mature of you Clive!'

'Yeah,' he agreed. 'Might have surprised even myself there.'

'So what did you get up to then?'

'Dinner, drinks, dancing, walking around London in the early hours…'

'Veritable fairytale the pair of you,' she joked but it came out more bitter sounding than she felt or intended.

Clive didn't seem to notice. 'Ended up spending pretty much the whole weekend together,' he continued, a smile creeping across his face. 'Dinner at mine on Saturday, brunch on Sunday…'

'Brunch Clive?! Brunch! Since when do you brunch?'

He shrugged. 'It was breakfast at lunchtime, I wasn't really bothered by what we called it.'

'Right.' She eyed him steadily for a moment. 'You seem pretty smitten Clive Reader.'

The smile appeared again. 'I think I might be,' he admitted, voice low.

'Even without sex? She must be something this Fiona Swinford!'

The smile turned into his usual cheeky grin. 'Oh I said there wasn't sex on Friday night, I never said there wasn't any!'

He winked and Martha resisted the temptation to fling her pen at his smug face, settling instead for shaking her head at him.

'Smartass!'

* * *

'Marth!' Clive waved her over as she entered the welcoming warmth of the pub. She gave him an answering smile and gestured to the bar but he beckoned again so she made her way over. She realised why as she neared the table and the booth at the far side came into view. Clive's girlfriend, the eponymous Fiona Swinford who she was yet to officially meet, was seated there in all her perfectly styled, golden haired glory. Martha felt self-conscious for all of three seconds before remembering that her own lank and flattened locks came courtesy of the wig she'd been wearing for the past three days. Fiona had clearly not been in court today.

It didn't matter of course, it wasn't a competition, and Martha Costello didn't need reassurance, certainly not about her looks or anything else, but sometimes, secretly, she was the tiniest bit insecure and the glamazon Clive was currently dating did not help matters.

She pasted on a bright smile, helped tremendously by the lipstick she'd reapplied before leaving chambers, and crossed the final few steps to where the couple were waiting. Clive stood up to meet her.

'Alright?'

The single word asked about her day, her trial and her general wellbeing but she couldn't get into all that now, not with a stranger from a rival set sat just across the table so she nodded and turned her smile to Fiona.

'Hi.'

'Martha, Fiona. Fiona, Martha,' Clive said

Martha saw the other woman's lips twitch as she reached across the table to shake hands but it wasn't until later that she managed to place the indignant look that flashed across Fiona's face and relate it to the fact Clive had introduced Fiona to her, not the other way around. Not being well versed in etiquette it wasn't something that mattered to her but it clearly meant something to Fiona and if Fiona felt slighted then perhaps Martha should be flattered. He might not have meant anything by it or even thought about it, though Clive being brought up the way he had he was unlikely to get it wrong unless he meant to, but it still warmed Martha a little bit to think of the way he had quietly, simply, demonstrated the importance of their friendship, the importance of her to him.

The handshake was very slightly limper than she would like but Fiona met her eyes steadily and smiled back.

'It's good to meet you at last,' Martha said, not entirely honestly, but not dishonestly either. Hopefully now this meeting was complete and Clive's eagerness to force the two women in his life to interact had been indulged, they could return to the periphery of each other's lives. Sometimes the best friend introductions had a detrimental effect on their respective relationships and with Clive apparently rather serious about this one she was anxious not to be perceived as a threat, laughable though the idea might be to the pair of them.

'Same,' Fiona said and Martha couldn't tell if she was lying too.

'Drink Marth?' Clive interjected.

Martha sank into his vacated chair. 'Red please.'

'That kind of day?'

'Yeah,' she said, tiredness creeping into her voice despite her vow to appear unaffected in the presence of the other female barrister.

Clive looked at her, not needing even one word to communicate concern, comfort and affection.

'White for me, Clive,' Fiona interrupted. 'Sauvignon if they've got it.'

'One white, one red,' Clive said cheerfully. 'On it.' He made to head to the bar before pivoting back to face them. 'Be nice while I'm gone! No debates about the respective merits of defence and prosecution.'

Fiona laughed and Martha rolled her eyes.

'I promise not to scare off your girlfriend Clive,' she said, with a much more genuine smile at the woman in question. 'Go get the drinks!'

Clive departed with a grin and there was a momentary silence that Martha was loath to fill. She'd been particularly nice so far, let Fiona make some effort. She counted the seconds, silently judging and smiling serenely until Fiona spoke.

'So you're in chambers with Clive?'

'Yeah. We got tenancy together.'

'That's nice. They only take one a year at King's Walk.'

'Must be a bit lonely sometimes?'

Fiona shrugged her shoulders. 'Perils of the criminal bar I guess.'

'Suppose so.'

Clive reappeared at that moment, setting two glasses of red and one of white on the table and sliding in next to Fiona.

'What're we talking about?'

'My set,' Fiona answered. 'Martha thinks it must be lonely being the only new tenant each year.'

Clive took sip of wine as he considered. 'I wouldn't much fancy it,' he said, with a glance at Martha. 'But then King's Walk does have a reputation for producing some of the toughest barristers at the Bar, so maybe it works; Man of Steel, Iron Lady…'

'Lady Macbeth,' Fiona chimed in.

'Quite a collection,' Martha agreed.

The talk turned to other characters across the Bar, whether Medusa would stick for Helen over at McCrory and Co, if Ruari Birstall really was deserving of the Mad Axeman moniker and of course, their own Head of Chambers, affectionately known as the Silver Fox.

'What's yours going to be?' Clive asked Fiona, giving her shoulder an affectionate nudge with his.

Fiona laughed. 'Oh nothing good I'm sure. I've lost twice this month.' She admitted the twin defeats lightly, perhaps a little frustrated but apparently unconcerned. No brooding over a verdict for Fiona Swinford, no obsessing over potential miscarriages of justice. Perhaps it was a perk of being a prosecutor and yet Clive managed it too, for the most part. He dealt with his defeats head on, fast forwarding to acceptance after a few hours and a few drinks, that or he just hid it well. She'd only seen him lose it a couple of times; the death row trial he'd used to great effect with women, a particularly nasty abuse case and a brief she'd missed entirely, having been in Bristol for the duration, but had Clive at her door the moment she got back, battered and broken and questioning his career altogether. In contrast, she'd lost count of how often it had been the other way around, Clive using all his charm and powers of persuasion to cajole her into a better frame of mind before she was allowed to go home for the night, turning up at her flat with a bottle of cheap wine, letting her cry her eyes out and fall asleep on his sofa. She couldn't image Fiona doing any of those things.

They were very similar in some ways; Fiona and Clive, she mused, watching them debate good naturedly. Their backgrounds of course, and the way they dealt with defeat, their interests and ambition. People would say they made a good match she supposed, though how you judged such things from outside she wasn't entirely sure.

She was pulled from her reverie by Fiona commenting on the time having glanced at the expensive watch on her slim wrist.

'We should make tracks,' she said to Clive. 'We've got reservations at Medici,' she added to Martha. 'Do you have dinner plans.'

'Well, I have plans to eat dinner,' Martha joked lamely.

'By which she means takeout,' Clive supplied.

Martha had to admire Fiona's good manners, the other woman not missing a beat as she immediately extended the invitation.

'You could join us, I'm sure they can add an extra chair.'

'Oh no,' Martha said quickly, pleasantly surprised as she was by the impressively genuine sounding suggestion. 'I wouldn't want to crash your date. And I've got one myself this evening.'

'And by that she means with her latest brief. Marth's a workaholic,' Clive chipped in.

'Thanks Clive,' Martha said sarcastically.

Fiona looked awkwardly between them. 'Well, if you're sure. I'm just going to freshen up, Clive could call them if you change your mind.'

Fiona excused herself to the bathroom and Clive reached a hand across the table to touch her arm.

'You really are welcome to come.'

'I appreciate it, honestly. And it's really very nice of her to offer but let's quit while we're ahead right?'

'You make it sound like this is some kind of strategic gameplay.'

'It kind of is Clive. She matters to you and things are good. Don't mess it up by having your best friend tag along on a date.'

'It's just dinner.'

'Its Friday night Clive, it's a date.'

'Another time then.'

'Fine,' she said shortly, suddenly tired again.

'Are you okay?' The question was accompanied by another soft touch on her arm and she had to focus on swirling the last of her wine in the glass to keep from cracking. Her latest trial seemed all but impossible and she was feeling increasingly snowed under by the dubious honour of being Alan's junior for his upcoming gangland killing.

'I've been better,' she admitted, because they didn't lie to each other.

'I can tell, you know,' he said quietly.

'I know.'

'If you want me to cancel…'

'No!'

'Marth…'

'I'm fine. I just need to not drink any more, go home, eat and get some sleep.'

'Okay.' Clive knew when he was defeated. 'You know where I am though.'

She gave him a lopsided smile. 'Thanks.'

'So…' he changed tack, almost shyly. 'What do you think?'

'Of Fiona?'

He nodded, head bobbing with nervous energy.

She seems smart, very polite. You're a good fit.'

Clive grinned. 'Great. Maybe we can hang out more…'

'I don't know Clive, I said you two were a good fit, she and I are rather different.'

'You and I are different!' he pointed out.

'I know, but…'

'Well…we'll see,' Clive said, wrapping up the conversation as he caught sight of Fiona wending her way between the other patrons and drawing glances as she made her way back to the table, all smooth, shiny hair, fresh lipstick and long, toned legs.

'Ready?' she asked Clive who rose to his feet.

Martha drained her glass, despite her comment to Clive about not drinking any more, and stood too. She half wished she hadn't, the couple towered over her; almost the same height thanks to Fiona's heels.

'It was lovely to meet you,' Fiona said, swooping in to air kiss the side of Martha's face, a gesture the smaller woman was utterly unprepared for. Thankfully it required no real reciprocation and Fiona had stepped back before Martha had really got her bearings. Where she was from people didn't feel the need to fake kiss for every greeting and farewell. To add to her general unease, Fiona had paused, clearly expecting Clive to take his leave of her in the same way. With a sideways smirk only Martha could see, Clive leant in and kissed her cheek, lips brushing the skin a second time as he murmured 'Text me' before pulling back and taking Fiona's hand.

'Bye,' Martha said stupidly, probably a good few seconds after they'd gone.

* * *

C - You didn't text me.

M - You were on a date.

C - You could have let me know you got home safely.

M - It was barely seven-thirty Clive.

C - How are you doing today?

M - Marginally better

C - Need reinforcements?

M - No brunch with Fiona?

C - Nah, she's bridesmaid dress shopping with her cousin

M - Lucky her

C - So?

M - If you like. I warn you I have no food in though.

C - When do you ever?

He arrived around forty minutes later complete with sustenance from the local Sainsbury's, a fresh set of eyes for both her current cases and the hug she'd needed since court let out yesterday. She was pretty sure she thought it semi-regularly, but she'd never been so grateful.

* * *

The first couple of years passed without incident. They both made an effort the times they met, for Clive's sake, though the truth was they were really just too different to ever get on properly. Outside of work Fiona's life revolved around a busy social calendar, a steady stream of nights out with the girls, champagne and shopping, brunches, hen parties, weddings, of meals at expensive restaurants and cocktails at trendy bars, trips to the races, seats at Wimbledon, glossy magazines, pointy stilettos and designer handbags. Martha's life outside of work, what little of it there was, consisted mostly of drinks in the pub, usually with colleagues, sometimes a meal with Billy or Clive or Alan, the occasional, oft rescheduled, drink or dinner with old uni friends, even more occasionally with anyone from school, take away and pyjamas, coffee ad infinitum, beer from the bottle, late night jazz on the record player, Joy Division turned up too loud in her car and the odd good book.

Fiona was a smart woman, she wasn't denying that, and she respected her as much as she did any prosecutor, over zealous as she might find them (and perhaps she was equally zealous in defence to be fair). It was simply that beyond work they had very little in common. They mostly talked shop when they were in the pub together, comparing cases and trading general Bar gossip. Fiona knew better than to antagonise Martha regarding their respective sides of the Bar and Martha tried her best not to be riled by Fiona's politics. On a rare occasion, they even agreed, usually about a particularly cantankerous judge, and sometimes, though Martha felt it was a cheap way to score points, they had a laugh at Clive's expense.

For her part, Fiona had accepted Clive and Martha's close friendship without question. Or at least she'd never commented on it in Martha's hearing and Clive had never said. She appreciated that. There had been a series of short-lived girlfriends at one point, each insanely jealous and convinced of Martha's apparent interest in their boyfriend. It had been tiresome more than anything. She knew their relationship was a little unusual, they had a shorthand, an understanding, some would even say a chemistry, but if they were going to get it together, or even just get it on, they would have done it by now. They'd reached that bridge and decided against it but it was a difficult thing to explain. She didn't think she ever did anything to encourage these notions and Clive wasn't the cheating type. Yes he flirted, but she was the one woman guaranteed not to misconstrue it and it was light compared to the things he sometimes came out with when he was single.

Fiona appeared to have no such qualms. Perhaps she understood, perhaps she respected their friendship, perhaps she simply didn't see Martha as a threat. After all, what man who had all five foot ten of Fiona's manicured, blow dried and bronzed perfection would risk it all to fall into bed with a chain smoking, caffeine addicted workaholic?

No, for all Fiona appeared to be the high maintenance type, she was surprisingly low key in Clive's life, independent, always the one with the busy schedule. Nights out, weekends away, openings, launch parties, dinner dates, holidays with friends. Martha sometimes wondered exactly how she fit in being a relatively successful lawyer. Clive accompanied her to plenty of these events of course but it was a case of him fitting into her life more than the other way around. She also seemed to get a fair proportion of cases that took her out of town and so other than fewer nights at the pub or Fiona's presence at the table or in their office before she dragged Clive off to whichever venue was in vogue that month, their day to day relationship, their unconventional friendship, changed very little.


	3. Chapter 2

**Fiona**

 **Summary: Before Martha he had half the female population of London in his bed. But before that? Clive Reader wasn't always a player.**

 **Disclaimer: We're working on it!**

* * *

A.N

So good to hear you're enjoying our weird head canon! Timeline?! You want us to have a timeline? Peter never bothered with such things! But yes, we have one because we are better! We're thinking Prologue is very late 30s/early 40s (canon-ish time but of course rather different!), Chapter 1 they are around 29/30, this chapter is set several years later (around 4 or 5, let's not get too specific in case we cock it up later!), then we'll cover (on and off) the years after that and right through the ages we know them in canon, which is where we hit the prologue, finally we'll do a few years after that too and they'll finish at 43, perhaps nudging 44 in the epilogue depending on their birthdays lol! Hope that helps!

* * *

'How was your weekend?' Clive asked, an innocuous and unremarkable question for a Monday morning yet Martha could see he was on edge.

'Fine, prepped the Henderson case, that was about it.'

'No news?'

'If there's something you want to tell me Clive, say it.'

'Well, since you asked, ah, Fiona and I got engaged.'

'Ri-ight…,' Martha said, drawing out the word as she tried to think of something else to say. 'Huh…'

'What's that face for?'

'Nothing!' Martha tried to rearrange her features but the shock seemed to have set in her jaw. 'I mean, congratulations!'

'You're still making it Marth!'

'I'm not making anything, I'm just, surprised.'

'Why?'

'Well, you hadn't mentioned the idea.'

'It's kind of personal.'

'Like that usually stops you!'

'I guess it was just something in my head, I wasn't partiucularly planning it or anything and then…'

'You proposed? You don't just accidentally propose Clive!'

'Well no, but it wasn't the traditional elaborately planned, rose petal strewn, ring in the dessert type proposal.'

'And she still said yes?'

'Obviously or I wouldn't be telling you. I'm not that much of a sucker for punishment to give you that kind of ammunition!'

'I wouldn't mock that!'

'Mmhmm!'

'So there were no roses, no string quartet? Clive Reader I'm surprised at you!'

Clive laughed. 'I'm not that much of a cliche! We were just at home and there wasn't even a ring!'

'You proposed without a ring?!' Martha surprised even herself with her girlish exclamation.

'She once said she'd want to choose it herself.'

'If someone can't pick out a ring you like should you really be marrying them?'

'Fair point but I reckon I know her tastes and it was a nice thing to do together. We went on Saturday, they get out champagne in every shop and everyone's so friendly because it's an engagement…'

'Not because you're about to spend a load of money on a hunk of metal and carbon?'

'You're such a cynic Marth!'

Martha shrugged. 'Just calling it like I see it!'

'Yeah, yeah.'

'So she said yes…'

'Yes Marth, you seem to be having some trouble with that concept. I'm not sure whether to be offended!'

'Its not that.'

'What is it then?

'Ah I guess I wasn't sure she was the settling down type.'

'Why?'

'Well she's very busy isn't she? Independent, ambitious…'

'Okay well yeah, she's all of those things but ambitious? What difference does that make to getting married or not?'

'None. None at all.'

'You're smirking now!'

'I'm not smirking Clive. It's just interesting.'

'What? That she agreed to marry me?'

'Ah, no, I can…see the…appeal I guess. Ah, anyway, um, no. That, er, you know, she, she's chosen that…that path.'

'What do you mean, path? She's not going to turn into a housewife or anything.'

'No I suppose not but, still, it's kind of, you know, she's not going to… I mean, kind of takes the pressure off the race for silk doesn't it? She's going to be distracted, she's going to be getting married, might have kids… It's going to be different isn't it?'

'Okay so you're pleased about this, not for me, but for the fact that Fiona will probably not go for silk in the same round as you. That she might take a break and have a baby! I didn't think you were that insecure Marth!'

'This has nothing to do with me being insecure, take that back!'

'Just calling it like I see it.' He tossed her words back at her with a wicked grin and she threw a paperclip at him.

'Shut up Clive!'

* * *

Later that afternoon they were back in their office, Martha after a rather unsuccessful con and Clive following a slow day in court. It was late and the inhabitants of the other desks were already gone. Martha glanced up from the notebook in which she scrawling half-heartedly and frowned, wondering why her best friend, newly engaged and not one for evenings in the office without good reason, hadn't left for home already.

'You alright Clive?' she asked.

'Yeah,' he said, looking surprised.

'Thought you would've been gone by now.'

'Fee's at her mother's tonight. Engagement news, you know.'

'You weren't expected?'

'I'd rather put off the discussions of flowers and dresses and God knows what else until I have to.'

'Don't blame you,' Martha said with a smirk and returned to her notes.

There was a comfortable silence for a while until Clive shifted in his chair.

'You don't…mind, do you?' he asked suddenly.

'What do you mean, mind?'

'About…me and Fiona?'

'When have I ever given you the impression that I care either way about you and Fiona?'

'You haven't, and maybe that's telling.'

'It's none of my business.'

'You're my bloody best friend Marth! Anyway, that wasn't what I meant by mind.'

'What then?'

'Well…'

'Spit it out Clive!'

'I mean because of what we said…when we were pupils.'

'We said a lot of things when we were pupils, mostly under the influence of alcohol or exhaustion, or both.'

'Yeah, well, this was one of them.'

'Right…'

'You know that night we decided we wouldn't date, we couldn't, better not…whatever it was.'

'Yeah, yeah I remember. There was quite a lot of heavy petting involved before we got to that point.'

'Yeah, yeah there was! Um…but after that, after we'd said we shouldn't, um, we made that drunken agreement. And I know we were drunk and twenty-three and whatever but I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten.'

Everything paused as Martha caught up. 'Oh.'

'You know what I mean?'

'Yeah.'

'So I…I was thinking about it, the other night, when I asked and…'

'You're telling me you proposed to Fiona and you were thinking about the time when we were pupils and we were drunk and we said we'd get married if we were still single at forty or whatever?!'

'I think it was forty-three actually, and it…seemed a lot further away then!'

'Whatever age it was Clive, that's kind of terrible.'

'I just, I take my promises seriously!'

'I know you do, and it, means a lot, that you thought of me, that you remember that. It really does Clive, but…you're happy, with Fiona, and we haven't ever been…anything, really, so…I guess that means I release you from your prior agreement!'

'Right, well, thanks I guess.'

'You really thought I was going to mind? When have I ever given the slightest suggestion that I want to get married?'

'You haven't. I was just being stupid I guess.'

'Not stupid,' she corrected softly. 'A gentleman.'

Clive laughed but she could see a red tinge colour his neck above the starched white collar he was wearing and smiled to herself.

'Drink?' she asked, closing her notebook. 'Celebrate your engagement and all that.'

'Try not to sound too enthusiastic,' Clive quipped but readily agreed and ten minutes later saw them safely ensconced in a booth in the Crown, 'celebratory' drinks on the table between them.

* * *

'So what brought this on then?' Martha asked, after one drink had turned into two and three.

'What?'

'Getting in engaged, getting married, the whole shebang.'

Clive shrugged. 'It's not that big a deal is it? It's what people do.'

'True but it's not like you've mentioned it lately, or at all really.'

'Does that matter?'

'Well, no, I guess not but if you were mulling it over I would have thought you would have said something. Making a big decision like that… I just figured you would have talked to me, that's all.'

'I don't talk to you about everything Marth. Can't I have been thinking about it on my own?'

'Clive, you pretty much run every decision by me.'

'Come on, that's not true!'

'Name a big decision in the last ten years that you haven't asked my opinion on.'

'Uh…'

Martha looked smug for a moment.

'Buying my motorbike,' he said proudly.

'Yeah Clive, because you knew I'd tell you it was a terrible idea. Honestly I swear that's the only thing Fiona and I truly agree on. It's a bloody death trap.'

'We're not getting into this discussion again. I barely get the chance to ride it anyway.'

'Okay, okay, back to the marriage thing then! It just feels like it's come out of nowhere, that's all. I didn't even know you were thinking about it.'

'Well I was!'

'Don't get stroppy. Contrary to popular belief I can't actually read minds and whatever Billy might say when we finish each other's sentences, I'm not in your head.'

'Sorry, I just…I feel like you're judging me for it.'

'I'm not, I'm just trying to understand where it's come from, all of a sudden.'

'I don't think anyone else would consider it sudden Marth. We're in our thirties, we've been together several years, settled in our careers, we live together…it's a natural step.'

'To you maybe.'

'Well, yeah it is.'

'Fiona been dropping hints then?'

'No, not that I've noticed. We've been to a couple of weddings together, I suppose that always puts in your head, and I know it's something she wants in life.'

'You've talked about it?'

'Not specifically. Just generally, future plans, life goals, that kind of thing.'

'How very mature of you.'

'Don't mock Martha, you know you could try it sometime, actually having a serious conversation with someone you go out with…'

'Not taking relationship advice from you Clive.'

'Fine, just throwing it out there!'

She rolled her eyes. 'So…It's something you want in life then, marriage?'

'Yeah, I mean, I've always thought I'd get married at some point. Get a ridiculous mortgage, probably have kids…'

'Oh wow.'

'I'd say we're undecided on the latter, for now at least. Fiona might not be as militant about silk as you but it's pretty important to all of us.'

Martha nodded, that, at least, she could understand.

'But yeah, getting married's always been an expectation. Both my sisters are, well, one engaged, one married, and my parents are happy still. It's a natural thought to have really.'

'I suppose.'

'I don't have the hang ups you have about it.'

'I don't have hang ups!'

'You kind of do.'

'No, I have certain opinions and specific points of contention with it.'

'Same thing.'

'I'm not really opposed to marriage entirely. I do think it's an outdated, unnecessary and inherently sexist institution but I can see the romance of some of it; the symbol of love, the commitment…

'So…you wouldn't say no then?'

'I said yes to you didn't I?' Martha joked.

'Perhaps only because it was twenty years ahead and had a high chance of never actually happening,' Clive teased back.

'Maybe.'

'But seriously, say there was someone, some day, would you consider it, really?'

Martha paused. 'It would depend, on a lot of things. There are elements that are okay but I also just don't like the whole wedding thing.'

'What, the getting drunk and having a party with all your friends and family? What's not to like about that?'

'No, the big white dress, the spectacle, the money. Combine that with the chavanistic traditions; being given away, changing names, all that stuff, and you lose me entirely.'

'I do respect your opinion…' Clive began in response but she cut him off.

'And I respect yours. If you want to get married and go the whole hog it really doesn't affect me.'

'You'll be there though, right?'

'What?'

'At the wedding?'

'Do I have to?'

'Come on Marth.'

'When's it going to be?'

'Not got a date yet, year after next, summer sometime.'

'And I'm supposed to be able to RSVP now to some mythical date two years in the future?'

'Probably June, does that help?'

'June. How utterly uncliched of you.'

'Don't be nasty about it Marth, please.'

'Sorry. There's just so much to mock Clive!'

He shook his head at her and drained his beer. 'You're not getting out of it by being scathing for the next two years.'

'But we just had a whole conversation about how weddings really aren't my thing…' she whined.

'It's not about you!'

'I'll swap with you every time you get sent to Holloway Mags for a month.'

'Like Billy would allow that.'

'I'll lend you my car the next time you have to go out to zone six.'

'Tempting but no.'

'I'll babysit the horrid little stage school kids you'll have!'

'The fact you called them horrid doesn't fill me with confidence…'

'Clive…'

'Have you got a problem with me marrying Fiona?'

The question was serious but light, not quite a joke but he also didn't seem actually concerned by the potential of an affirmative answer.

'No! Of course not. I told you! Clive…'

'No, I know, I don't mean _that_. I mean, aside from that, in general… You don't think I'm making a horrible mistake or something? As my best friend…'

Martha took a deep breath. 'Are you happy? Yes or no answer.'

'Yes.'

'Do you love Fiona?'

'Yes.'

'Are you in love with Fiona?'

'Yeah I think so. I mean, yes.'

'Do you want to get married?'

'Yes.'

'Do you want to spend your life with Fiona?'

'Well yeah.'

'Why?'

'What?'

'Why do you want to?'

'Well that's kind of…'

'Come on Clive.'

'Because I love her.'

'That's a reason to propose and get married, it's not a reason to spend your life with someone.'

'Alright!' Clive said, clearly a bit taken aback by Martha's sudden insight, probably due to the fact he'd known her have only a handful of semi-serious boyfriends in the last decade. 'Because we fit. We fit together, our lives, our feelings, our views and what we want. Our lives, work, the future. We enjoy each other…'

Martha raised her eyebrows and bit back a laugh at his wording. Clive caught sight of her contorted face and shook his head at her.

'Not what I meant, but that too, definitely an important factor! We enjoy each other's company, we enjoy a lot of the same things. We understand each other, well, at least what we do, this life we've chosen. We…encourage each other.'

'What about support each other?'

'Well yeah, that I guess but we're pretty independent people in a way. And I like that too. We're not in each other's pockets. We have our own lives…'

'It doesn't bother you that she's out of town a lot, is always so busy?'

'Well, the work part I get. I'm not going to argue with that am I? I'm not a hypocrite and work's important to both of us. The social stuff…I guess that I can take it or leave it. Would I rather put my feet up and watch trash TV and get a takeaway than suit up for another dinner or event? Sometimes yes, but it makes her happy. I'm willing to do that, and the times I'm not, well she's also happy to go alone so it works out.'

'You know she's going to make it a horrible society wedding.'

'I know. But between her and my mother I never had much of a chance of anything else, no matter who I was marry.'

'Do things need to change?' Martha asked, changing tack.

Clive's brows drew together as he frowned. 'Change?'

'With us. I know we're closer than most and Fiona's never had a problem with it but…you're getting married Clive, that's different. And I'd like to know, now. That's all I really care about. You being happy and us still being friends.'

'We're not going to stop being friends Marth. We share an office, we see each other every day…'

'I know. But it'll still be different. Will you just think about it.'

He nodded. 'Okay. I'll talk to Fiona but honestly Marth, I really don't think she sees it that way or cares. And I'm certainly not expecting her to stop hanging out with her yoga instructor or whatever.'

'I thought the yoga instructor was gay?'

'You know what I mean!'

* * *

C - Fiona says it's fine. She's not planning to chain me up the moment we get married.

M - To the cooker? You're going to be the househusband are you?

C - The Aga does have a suitable rail.

M - Still can't believe you have an Aga

C - You've eaten food from that Aga, don't complain.

M - Might get more if you were chained to it.

C - She might have meant to the bed.

M - Kinky.

C - That I might not mind.

M - Not sure I needed to know that

C - Seriously though. She's kind of surprised you asked, didn't think you worried about that stuff or thought she did.

M - I don't, usually

C - Well thanks anyway.

* * *

The criminal Bar in London being as small and incestuous as it was, Clive and Fiona's relationship had always been the subject of a certain amount of gossip. There was always interest in who was shagging who and who was dating who and the interest only grew as juniors moved through the ranks, began making a name for themselves and being flagged as ones to watch. Clive had always been flashy, since they were pupils, and his particular brand of charming advocacy, his way with witnesses, juries and women (inside and outside the courtroom) had been noted. Fiona had less panache but she was confident and self-assured, memorable for her meticulousness in cross-examination, for wearing shoes that raised both questions and eyebrows regarding their suitability as 'court attire' and simply for the fact she was far more beautiful than the average barrister. They made a striking couple; tall, attractive and invariably well dressed. There were plenty of angles to go on; the star-crossed lovers on opposite sides of the bench, the 'rival' chambers and plenty of other such nonsense. There was always particular interest when they met in court, whispers amongst the pupils and more idle talk in robing rooms, but really it all paled to insignificance compared to the deluge that followed their engagement, the news of which Martha, inadvertently, broke herself.

It was the Wednesday following Clive's revelation. The client from her unsuccessful con was proving to be equally frustrating in the witness box and Martha was sat in the nearest pub trying to cool off before heading home. Unfortunately, the relative peace and solitude of the corner of the bar she was sat at was broken by the arrival of two loud, male barristers whom she only knew by sight.

'Honestly she's that fit sometimes I can't concentrate on what she's saying,' one was saying to the other as he pushed the door open.

'Get a grip!'

'Have you seen those legs? Wouldn't mind having those wrapped a…' The barrister caught sight of Martha and stopped abruptly.

She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, finishing her drink and flicking her wrist to check the time.

'Anyway you're out of luck mate,' the second barrister said. 'She's dating Clive Reader.'

Martha wasn't one for gossip. She hated to be the subject of it so she steered clear from the temptation to indulge in it, sometimes however, it was impossible not to pick up on and when you heard the name of someone in your set it was always worth keeping an ear open.

'Really?'

'Yeah, where've you been mate?'

The first man shrugged and hauled himself up onto a barstool. 'Thought I'd seen her with a dark haired bloke that's all.'

'Nope, she's definitely with Reader. It's been a couple of years, lucky fucker.'

'Dunno who that was then. Wasn't in Temple anyway, which was odd.'

'Ask someone if you don't believe me.' The second man turned to her as she began to cross towards the door. 'You're in chambers with him aren't you Martha?'

The surprise that he knew her name, though of course there were fewer women at the Bar than men, and even fewer Northern blondes, helped Martha feign both ignorance and innocence when it came to eavesdropping.

'Who?'

'Clive Reader.'

'Yeah.'

'And he's dating Fiona Swinford isn't he?'

'Engaged actually,' Martha said without thinking, simply wanting to end both her part in the conversation and the speculation over Clive's fiancée. She hitched her handbag up onto her shoulder and walked out. It wasn't until she was halfway home that she realised exactly what she'd said and the fact it may not yet be common knowledge. She doubted Clive would care but Fiona was another matter and Martha was loath to unbalance the grudging tolerance they had carefully crafted over the last few years. With a sigh she pulled out her phone and prepared to apologise.

M - So I may have said something to someone today that I shouldn't have.

C - Cryptic Marth

M - It concerns you

C - Okay…

M - I may have let the cat out the bag re your engagement.

C - Who to?

M - Two random barristers I don't even know the names of

C - Dare I ask why?

M - It was an accident. They were gossiping, I wanted to set the record straight. I didn't even think about it. I'm sorry.

C - It's fine

M - Sure?

C - To be honest I'm surprised there were two people in central London who hadn't already heard! Fiona's been sharing the news far and wide since Sunday night.

M - Okay, thank god for that!


End file.
